The Closing Shift
by SuperDesireCupcake
Summary: America gets in trouble and now has a regular part-time job! Tonight was supposed to be just another boring, laid-back weeknight closing shift. Except for the fact that the other nations are in town for a meeting.
1. A Quiet Evening

**Hey, everyone. This here would be my second fic ever! Hooray! ((lol. I know you all don't really care how many fics I've written.)) So, this turned out to be much longer than it was supposed to be. It was going to be a long one-shot, but I started having too much fun with it. So, now it's going to be my first multi-chapter fic! Yay!**

**Please forgive the horrible Italian. I honestly tried really hard to get the best translation I could. I tried translating it to French (which I'm not really good at to begin with) and then translating that to Italian. I tried using different translators, too. Seven of them, in fact. And in the end, I got the same sentence I got when I translated from English. So, pretty much all of the Italian you see here is straight from Google Translate. I apologize for slaughtering this beautiful language.**

**...  
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He picked up his keys and walked to the desk next to the door. Opening the small door and slamming it behind himself, he stepped over to the register and clocked in. He looked around section, which was devoid of people, before picking up the small collection of necklaces that had gotten tangled together. He let his mind wander as he fiddled with the chains, trying to pull them apart.

His boss had gotten mad at him for playing video games the night before an important meeting instead of going over his notes. And he had gotten even angrier when he found out that he hadn't even thought about the speech he was supposed to give and was planning on "winging it."

"If you aren't going to do what you ought to be doing, you might as well get a regular job and do something to help out with this recession," the President had said before he cut off his "allowance."

So here he was, working part-time at Macy's selling jewelry. Once again, it was the night before an important meeting, a world meeting, and he still hadn't done anything to prepare. Fortunately, this time they were going to be meeting in D.C. He knew that he'd have plenty of time to think about it since he was working the closing shift on a weekday. There usually weren't that many people out shopping, some in the early evening and then a few more right around closing time as the people made their way out of the mall.

This evening was a little different, though. First of all, there were usually about four other people working when he came in at this time, and two of them would go home in an hour or so. But tonight, only one of his coworkers was there. She was a nice old lady, a recent immigrant from S. Korea, with an accent that was clear enough for you to understand, but thick enough to still confuse you. She was cleaning the fashion watches bay by herself when he walked in. And that was the other thing, there was nobody else around. Sure, there was chatting coming from the cosmetics area, which was normal, but the rest of the store was practically a ghost town.

Except it wasn't. Because ghosts are creepy, and there is nothing creepy about Macy's. Even a big, empty one…

Nope, nothing at all.

He finally pulled apart the chains and carefully placed them around his hand. Straightening, he turned and deftly unlocked the door. No, it did not take him three tries, thank you very much. He kicked the door shut and headed off to his first destination. Which was somewhere near the Ralph Lauren stuff. Then he heard a rather loud voice calling from down the hall.

"Vee~ Germany~ Wait for me!"

"Italy, if you want to stop and flirt with all the women, please do not expect me to wait for you."

"But, Germanyyy~ She was so pretty! I just had to talk to her!"

And, sure enough, a tall blonde man walked stiffly from between the aisles of cosmetics and trailing behind him was a certain Italian, who was alternating between trying to catch up to his partner and stopping to compliment the women they passed.

He quickly dropped the necklaces in their place and turned around the corner, hoping that he hadn't been spotted.

"Vee~! America! Is that you?"

Crap.

Well, maybe if he didn't respond, Italy might think that he wasn't the United States of America and he would just follow Germany out the door.

"It IS you! I knew it! See, Germany always says that I don't pay attention to things but I saw you from halfway across the store! What are you doing here?" He had rushed over chatting the entire time, leaving Germany standing by the escalators in the middle of the store.

Well, there was no way to avoid the Italian now, so he might as well face up to it.

"Oh, hey, Italy. What's up?" America turned to finally face him.

"Ve~ We have been… Oh, you work here?" Italy's eyes had caught sight of his name tag.

Damn.

"Ahahaha! Yeah, well, ya know, just trying to do my part to help out with the recession," he stumbled a bit over the words, but they were true. Maybe not the whole truth, but they were true.

"Well, that is very responsible of you." Germany had wandered over and sounded rather impressed with the American.

America beamed at the compliment.

"Wow, really? That's amazing, America! Fantastico!" Italy smiled excitedly. "How long have you been working here?"

"Uhh, it's been a couple of months now," America said slowly. Hell, he wasn't even sure how long he'd been here, but it definately wasn't longer than two months.

"Really? That's so cool! Hey, Germany, maybe I should get a job when I go back home. What do you think?"

Germany made a noise at him that sounded kind of like an grunt and looked at America.

"I hope this won't interfere with your responsibilities as a nation."

He didn't sound like he was trying to be mean or anything, but America didn't like where this topic was going. So, he came up with a quick reply about how he's managing things just fine and, fishing for a new topic, asked them why they were at the mall.

Germany looked away, suddenly finding something in the case very interesting. Italy, on the other hand, perked up.

"We came looking for Germany's big brother!" He said with a wide smile.

America just stared at him. Prussia was on the loose and unsupervised..? That's not good. Especially if he's also at the mall. America prayed that they just stopped here because they really had no clue where he was. It was bad enough these two had to find out about this, but at least Germany wouldn't tell everyone, and Italy would either forget or Germany would help keep him from saying too much. If Prussia found out... Well, that would be bad.

"Are you sure he's here at the mall?"

"Sì! England called Germany to tell him that Prussia was here at the mall. So, we came looking for him."

Shit.

Wait. England?

"England? Why would he know where Prussia is?"

"Vee~ I don't know..." He looked to Germany for help.

Germany cleared his throat. "He said something about needing some new fabric for a project he has been wanting to start."

"There's a fabric store in this mall?" America couldn't stop the question from escaping his lips.

"I suppose so," Germany replied gruffly.

"Soooo... You guys haven't bumped into him yet, have you?" America was curious about this new project of England's. The last one had been some frilly little handkercheif, and America had made it clear that it was stupid. He had also heavily implied that he might REALLY want England to make him something like he used to. When he was still a little colony, England used to quilt blankets and make all sorts of things. He even made America a cape one time, which America promptly ruined when playing in the woods that day. He was kinda hoping that England would remember and make him a new cape.

"Bumped into who? England? No, we haven't seen him. We just got here a few minutes ago," Italy said as he started bouncing on his heels.

"Oh, well... Ok, then," was the only thing he could think of to say.

Suddenly, the sound of a phone ringing cut through the settling silence.

Germany reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. His eyes widened at the name on the screen before pushing a button and bring the phone to his ear. His lips parted to greet the caller but instead ended up grimacing at the loud voice yelling through the speaker.

"EHI! YOU! WHERE ARE YOU?WHERE IS MY BROTHER? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM? POTATA BASTARDO! I'LL GET LA MAFIA TO FIND YOU AND MAKE YOU REGRET WHATEVER IT IS YOU DID!"

Germany stood staring at the cell phone in his hand, trying to keep it as far from his ears as possible. The voice continued to yell through the phone at the blonde nation.

America had intially stared at the phone in shock but, as the heavily accented shouting continued, he started to grin, finding this incredibly amusing. Italy was also smiling. He moved closer to the phone to speak to the angry Italian on the other side.

"Ciao, fratello! Germany and me are at the mall! Did you get my note?"

There was silencefor a minute and Germany passed the phone to Italy so that he could talk to his brother.

"Vee~ Romano, are you there?"

"Veneziano? È bene? Il tedesco non ha fatto nulla per te, vero? Perché sei al centro commerciale?"

He didn't sound angry anymore but he was still loud enough for the other two nations to hear.

"Sì, sì. Io sto bene. Germany had to come to the mall to find his brother and I decided to come with him," Italy chatted casually even with his brother practically screaming in his ear.

Italy fell silent as he listened to his brother start screeching at him in Italian. He busied himself with pulling at his sleeve, nodding as Romano went on, occasionally interrupting briefly before getting cut off.

After a few minutes of this, America got curious as to what the heck they were talking about.

"Hey, Italy. What's the deal? What is he talking about?" America spoke quietly.

Said Italian looked at him for a few seconds while he listened to the continued talking in his ear. Then he smiled at him.

"Ve~ He's mad at me for forgetting to charge my phone. He's been trying to call me for an hour. And I think he was worried that Germany kidnapped me or something."

"Huh? What? Why?" America looked at Germany in confusion, who also appeared baffled.

"Ahh... It might have something to do with the note I left him..."

Angry screaming could once again be heard through the speaker. Though it wasn't as loud as before. In fact, it sounded as if Romano wasn't even speaking to Veneziano anymore but instead yelling at someone else. All America could make out were a few curse words and shouts of " Spagna!" He assumed Spain was there and was now the focus of the Italian's rage.

"Veneziano!" Romano's voice filled the air again. "Non hai risposto alla mia domanda! Cosa stai facendo al centro commerciale?"

"Ve, Germany and I were just talking to America when you called."

"Germania? Patata bastardo? Perché lui? E perché l'America è lì?"

"Romano, I just told you. I came to the mall to help Germany find his brother. And America is here because he works here!"

America paled. Why? Why did Romano have to find out? Now he's got blackmail for the next decade or so. He could practically feel the smirk though the phone.

"He works there? Where? Doing what?" He was still loud but he wasn't mad. In fact, he sounded rather pleased.

"Ve~ We're in Macy's right now. America sells jewelry here, now!"

"Davvero? Don't move. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

Romano promptly hung up without even waiting for a reply.

Shit. This night was really going to suck, wasn't it?

**...**

**How was it? It wasn't nearly as cracked up and confusing as my last one!**

**Should I give the Google translations of the Italian there? or is it fine the way it is?**

**I have no idea when this will get a chapter update.**


	2. Things Just Got Worse

**Oh, hey, look! It's chapter two!** **Sorry this took so long, folks. I literally wrote this entire chapter while I was at work, on my iPod. It looked like it was longer than the first chapter, until I typed it up on my computer. Go figure. Anyways, now that school is coming to an end for me, this should go a lot faster. This week will be finals and then I have a week off and THEN I have a summer class I'm taking. But it's only Drawing II. It'll be fun. **

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The day had started off so promising.

Canada had come down a few days before the meeting to visit. This morning, he got up early and decided to make breakfast. So America woke up to the delicious scent of his brother's freshly cooked pancakes. There wasn't much he gave him credit for, but America would hand that one to him on a silver platter, if he could.

Not that he couldn't make them! He did a pretty good job, even Canada had said so. But there was just something about the way his brother made them… Or maybe it was just the fact that America didn't have to make them himself. Instead, he got to lay in bed with the sun shining through the window warming his face while his breakfast was being prepared for him.

Yeah, America loves it when Canada visits.

He then spent the rest of the day going through and organizing the box of old comic books he found in his room. And a day filled with limited edition _Batman_ and _Spiderman_ comics is a day in heaven.

Now, he's standing in Macy's next to Germany and Italy with his own personal hell arriving in half an hour. Any worries he had about Prussia were gone. He probably was, too. He had most likely moved on to terrorize some other place. America figured he'd have to remember to ask the President to give medals to the poor people who have to put up with the ex-nation.

Germany, however, was still worried.

"Well, America, it has been nice seeing you but, we really need to go."

"But, Germany! We can't leave now! Romano's going to meet us here!" Italy's tone turned almost whiny.

"Italy, that's in 30 minutes. We can search the other stores on this end of the mall while we wait"

"But…"

A beeping noise interrupted them. Italy looked down at the phone still in his hand and, after examining the screen, passed it back to its owner.

Germany glanced at the screen and then began to fiddle with the device.

America just watched silently. He wasn't really in the mood to talk anymore.

The German finally got the phone to do whatever it is that he was trying to make it do and his face melted into a look of alarm as he had a wide-eyed staring match with the screen. That caught America's attention.

"What is it?" he asked, reaching for the phone.

"Ve~ It's a picture message from Prussia."

"Really, huh?" He took the phone from Germany to get a look at the picture.

He promptly decided that Prussia was still something to worry about.

The picture was blurry but you could clearly see Prussia wearing one of his old hats from a couple hundred years ago. Or it was a replica. Either way, he looked ridiculous. It clashed horribly with the black t-shirt he had on. America figured that was his favorite shirt; he was wearing it every other time the two came in contact. It had something to do with the yellow chick on the front, but America didn't understand, nor did he care to.

But there were a couple of other, more important things in this picture. Like the two beer bottles in his hands, or the red stain of alcohol on his face, or even that poor, frightened girl that Prussia had pulled into the picture with him.

Even more worrisome was the place they were at. It was a little shop that he recognized from somewhere in the mall. Well, that was just great. Not only was he still loose in the mall, he also looked like he was completely drunk. Perfect.

Germany took the phone back from America and looked to Italy.

"We have to go now."

"But if you know where he is, why do I need to go? I could just stay here and wait for Romano and you could go get Prussia and meet us here."

He clearly did not want to go get Prussia. America couldn't blame him.

"Italy, I might need your help. You see… he's a bit drunk, and you know how difficult he can be sometimes."

Germany clearly did not want to go alone. America couldn't blame him either.

"But, Germany~"

"He's terrorizing unsuspecting women."

"But, Germany, you can handle him better than I can!"

"There's gelato."

Ok, Germany, seriously, are you trying to bribe him? America half hoped that the Italian wouldn't actually fall for that.

The other half of him didn't particularly care.

"Eh?"

"Ja, mein bruder is harassing women outside a gelato shop. Will you come with me?"

Germany was actually starting to sound desperate. America wasn't particularly familiar with a drunk Prussia, but from the way Germany was acting, it probably wasn't any better than his normal attitude, which is difficult enough to handle regularly. He really felt sorry for the other blonde nation.

_"Cosa? Che è terribile! Come os a fare qualcosa di simile! Io non lo perdonerà per questo!"_

America wasn't entirely sure what just happened, but Italy was suddenly worked up enough to start spewing Italian. The Mediterranean nation looked at him with one of the most serious expressions on his cheerful face that America had ever seen. Well, since WWII, anyway. Even Italy hadn't managed to be all sunshine and daisies in the middle of war.

"America, we need to go. Ciao."

And, with that, he charged off into the mall, leaving Germany to say a quick good bye to their fellow nation and hurry after him.

America stood there watching them rush back out the way they had come. It was a very different scene from when the two had walked in. He shook his head a little as their retreating forms disappeared in the clusters of cosmetics stations.

He sighed heavily and turned back to the task he had been working on before this whole fiasco had started. He separated the chains and hung them on their stands for them to be picked up and left in strange places by careless customers. Only for him to have to repeat the process afterwards. Such was the nature of his job.

As he rounded the corner into a remote area of the section, he found an elderly woman looking into a glass case. America took in a deep breath and put on a smile. He put the last couple of necklaces down and walked over to her. This was his favorite part of the job: helping people. He didn't know much about fashion, especially jewelery, but he tried his best anyway.

He said a friendly good bye to the woman as she left with her purchase and he turned back to the register. He typed in his ID and code, and pulled up his sales goal for the day: $612. Of which he had made 9%, meaning he still had $550.80 to go. He looked around the desolate section, waved a little to his coworker when their eyes met, and looked back at the screen incredulously. How in Hell was he supposed to make $550 when the place was empty?

He sighed and canceled out of his statistics. Having nothing else to do, he wandered mindlessly around the area, barely dodging displays and counters, contemplating all the ways in which Romano was going to make his life as difficult and/or humiliating as possible. He was distracted from his miserable thoughts by a loud, heavily accented voice coming from the escalators.

"Like, can you believe she said that to me? She totally doesn't know what she's talking about. I look fantastic in pink!"

**...**

**Because, seriously, how can you have an entire fic set in a mall and NOT include Poland? (I almost forgot to include him when I was doing the small amount of planning I did for this. *shot* )**

**lol. Can anyone guess where I work? Have I made it obvious yet? **

**Also, once again, I apologize for the terrible Italian. Google Translate.** ***cries***

**CANADA. I NEVER PLANNED ON PUTTING YOU IN ANY PART OF THIS FIC. WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?**


End file.
